Until You Are Able To Feel
by Beutelmaus
Summary: Until you are able to feel, what he gives has to be enough for you. Birthday gift for Salem.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Until you are able to feel, what he gives has to be enough for you. AkuRoku

**Warnings:** First try on writing a story in the KH-verse... Non-AU. The things I do for the people I love... (Yes, Salem, I mean you!)

**Pairings:** AxelxRoxas

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of the characters. I also do not make profit out of using them for writing fanfiction.

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**Until You Are Able To Feel – Chapter 1**

You ache and hurt all over, but right now, you don't even mind. You hate to admit it, but you are used to it; you are used to the pain, you even welcome it, because it's one of the very few things you can actually feel.

You know your Superior's explanations by heart. Rather different from other members of the Organization, mostly the younger ones, you listen to the Superior's rants every time. You hunger for more knowledge about hearts, nobodies, emotions, because you don't remember what it was like to feel. You remember nothing.

But you know pain has nothing to do with a heart. It's just physical. Physical things you understand. But even physical feelings like pain seem so dimmed; you know normal humans would have passed out after hours of hacking and slicing their way through a horde of heartless, after claws ripped their flesh open, after they tried to pick up a keyblade with their wrist broken…

The last mission wasn't too bad. Yes, you are in pain, but it's not as bad as it could have been; had that last heartless actually hit you, you would probably be hurt quite badly and would have to stay in your room until someone bothered to bring you a potion or cast a healing spell on you. You can't do that yourself after the missions. You always feel too drained; almost every time you just pass out on your bed, not caring if your wounds need treatment. You're always told you are too reckless, but you don't intend to change anything.

But now you can sit here, up at the clock tower in Twilight Town, and the pain isn't as bad as it could have been. You guess that, had you had a heart, you could have felt happy and content.

"Wow, aren't you a ray of pure sunshine in the dark?"

… Well, had you had a heart and had you been alone, not with that annoying, red-haired freak.

"… Shut up," you reply, bored. Well… what would have been bored if… Right, you have to stop this. You're starting to confuse yourself. You know you are not really bored. You know you can't _feel_ bored. Yet still your body obviously tries to… mimic feelings your Other once felt, even if you can't remember them at all.

"Yep, all bright and sunshine-y." From the corners of your eyes you see someone else sit down next to you, long legs, clad in the same high boots and black pants you wear as well and partly covered by a heavy leather coat, dangling over the edge. You don't bother to look up. You can picture his face clearly, and the way he's leaning back, bracing himself against the warm stone you're both sitting on with his hands. You can imagine how he's looking at you, his bright, green eyes twinkling mischievously. Their color is pretty odd; you've noticed them change to a slightly more bluish jade green when he's upset… when he acts like he's upset. Usually they are beautifully emerald green.

You can imagine the upside-down teardrops on his skin being drawn upwards a little as a teasing smirk stretches his thin, pale lips. He always seems to smirk. He always seems so amused. He… always seems so _emotional_.

"Oh, but how can you be anything but shiny, with a pretty element like yours? What's it like to be '_Light'_?"

You roll your eyes and turn away, drawing your legs up to rest your hurting head on them. This is getting really old. He always teases you because of your element. Right, as if his was much better…

… Yeah, it probably is. Light is so useless! What are you gonna do with it? Sparkle the heartless to death? You've not yet discovered how to use it as a weapon, like your fellow Organization members do with their respective elements. The Superior says you will find a way to use your element one day, but that it needs time. Well, at least you have your keyblades; without them you would probably have never been admitted to the Organization.

Ah, but now you're wandering a little bit too far from the topic.

"Just shut up, Axel," you mutter and close your eyes. "My head hurts."

"Just your head? And what about this?" You flinch, first at the gentle tone he uses, then at the fleeting brush of slender, gloved fingers over a nasty scratch on your back.

Sometimes you are really glad that the pain feels so dimmed.

"It was fine until you touched me, you dumbass," you growl and skid away from him a little.

"Well, sor-_ry_ that I was worried about you," he huffs, but you still can hear the teasing grin in his smooth voice.

"You _can't_ be worried," you retort bluntly. And you really hope he won't start another argument about the topic; his theories about whether or not emotions are actually connected to the heart are just too weird for you to handle after a strenuous mission. You know he just makes them up to annoy you anyway.

You hear him utter a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle; how odd. But, well, he _is_ odd.

"Rox-as, _Rox_-assssss," he says in a sing-song voice, but you refuse to turn around. "Aw, c'mon, don't be mad…"

"I _can't_ be mad," you grind out, and at the same time you feel that it is a lie; because, fuck, you can already feel the all too familiar feeling of uncomfortable warmth spreading in your belly. You know this warmth is your tired body's pathetic attempt on simulating real anger.

"Aaaaaah, one of _those_ days, I see," he drawls, and you are grateful that he decides to shut up afterwards.

The silent sunset is something you've learned to value. There is nothing more relaxing than sitting on this clock tower and watching the town's colors change into different hues of red and gold.

"Sea salt?" he asks out of the blue, and you smile. Thankfully he can't see it, as you still face away from him.

"Yeah," you agree.

"'Kay, be right back," he exclaims cheerfully, then you hear the rustling of his heavy coat and you know that he just jumped off the tower, into a portal he opened just beneath the edge.

It only takes a minute for him to return, and this time his portal opens at your other side, the direction you're still looking into. He flops down next to you, grinning manically; he looks just like you imagined earlier, bright eyes shining, red hair spiking out all around his head, dark purple tattoos on ever so pale cheeks drawn a bit upwards due to his smile. He holds out your favorite dessert; the unnaturally blue, iced sweet comes right out of the freezer of that small store down there, you know. He sneaks in there all the time to steal sea-salt ice cream for you.

You gratefully take the popsicle he offers you and allow yourself a happy sigh as you put it into your mouth, sucking lightly. The mix of so many different flavors immediately assaults your senses, and you love every single second it lasts.

You hear Axel chuckle next to you, and only now you notice your eyes slid shut. You open them again to glance at him, and you can't help but smile as well; his happy smile is just too contagious.

You sit there in silence for a while. It's comfortable, and you almost forget the pain you're still in as you savor your ice cream.

You look down at the carefree, no doubt happy figures running around beneath you. They look so tiny from up here…

You've almost finished your popsicle, and you know Axel has finished his some time ago already; he's always so greedy, while you take your time to enjoy it as long as you can. You hear and see him move from the corners of your eyes; he moves behind you, and suddenly his arms are around your shoulders, large, gloved hands unfastening the chain holding together the coat you wear; then he moves them to pull down the zipper of your coat. You let him do as he pleases; you're too tired to stop him anyway, and he's the only one who is allowed to come this close to you. Besides, you know that he only wants to treat the deep gash beneath your left shoulder blade.

"Ouch," he mutters as he cautiously peels the heavy, torn leather from your shoulders. You allow the coat to fall to your elbows, still fingering the stick that's left from your popsicle. The black t-shirt you wear underneath the coat is ripped and drenched in blood, sticking to your skin most disgustingly. Must look pretty bad.

You let him lift the t-shirt until he can see the wound more clearly, but somehow you feel annoyed that he takes so long this time. But before you can say anything you hear a soft clinking noise and feel something cool and slick touch your skin; you close your eyes at the strange prickling sensation the cold substance leaves.

Axel rubs some potion onto your skin, to help the wound heal. He didn't even take his gloves off, and somehow you feel disappointed. His hands are always so warm…

"Here, drink up," he says and offers you the rest of the potion. You take the small bottle from him and drown it in one gulp. It tastes so odd, and you can't help but gag at the taste it leaves in your mouth.

He pulls the shirt down and the coat up and around your shoulders again, and you pull the zipper up yourself. You don't bother with the chain; you'll have to throw the stupid coat away anyway.

"I just hope you plan to take a bath or something. That's an awful lot of blood," he remarks lightly.

"No, I was planning to just go to bed and bleed all over my sheets," you snort, feeling a bit annoyed again. You hate it when he treats you like a child. _Would_ have hated… Yeah, you know.

"Gross," he mutters, and you look down when he lies down next to you on his stomach, his thin arms dangling over the edge, long fingers drawing odd patterns into the air.

Again your eyes are drawn to the people down there; you can hear laughter and screaming. Children play and scream and laugh; women chatter; men greet each other politely.

"Axel?" you hear your own voice speak up. You don't even know why you just said his name.

"Yup?" he replies, still staring down and drawing into the air.

"Do you remember what it was like to feel?" His movements stop at once, and you can see his shoulders tense up a little.

"… What?" he breathes, and the cautious and suspicious tone in his voice confuses you.

"Do you remember what it was like to feel?" you still repeat slowly.

He just stares at you, green eyes narrowed and lips set in a tight line. He seems surprised, and startled and upset. He slowly sits up again, and the weird expression on his face would have freaked you out if you had a heart.

"The hell, Roxas?" he exclaims, running a gloved hand through his spiky, red hair. "Why do you ask something like that?"

"It's a simple question, Axel," you retort, frowning at him. "So, do you remember?"

He blinks, then looks down, watches the happy people down there much like you did before. You wait, and wait, and wait… You cross your arms, frown even deeper, tapping your fingers against your biceps. You stop that however when it only intensifies the ache in your arms. Keyblades are heavy. Dragging a keyblade through a heartless' body isn't quite as easy and effortless as you make it look.

"Well?" you finally ask, but still he just stays silent. That's so unlike him. Usually he won't stop talking, regardless how many times you tell him to shut up. He's acting awfully strange today.

When he looks up, you know he won't answer your question. You can see it in his eyes, and you know for sure when his trademark smirk lights up his solemn face again.

"Shit, Roxas, stop frowning like that," he laughs and reaches out to tousle your hair. You lean back slightly, but he still manages to drag his hand through your blond spikes once. You hate it when he does that. It makes you feel like a child, even more than his stupid jokes about your height or your roundish face or your big eyes or your embarrassing habit of pouting when you don't get your way do. You don't want him to think of you as a little boy. You want him to treat you like an equal.

So you only glare harder at him, daring him to do it again. He doesn't. He knows you well enough to know he'd be pushed from the clock tower if he did. Not that it would do any good; he _can_ open portals after all. But as soon as he'd step out of the portal, he would be confronted with Oathkeeper and Oblivion, and he knows that as well.

"Someday that frown will be stuck on your face," he predicts wisely, grinning even wider. "And what a shame that would be. Your pretty face would be permanently flawed…"

"Pretty," you repeat, and you just know he's trying not to crack up at your murderous expression.

"Cute?" he offers, and now you can feel your right eye twitch. He can't hold back laughter any longer. You almost forget to punish him as you listen to his laugh; it's nice, and honest; not cruel or malicious or teasing or anything, but pure and melodious and amused.

But you still reach out and shove his shoulder hard, causing him to lose his balance and fall from the edge. You watch him open a portal and jump after him; after he vanishes into the dark void the portal remains open for 3.8 seconds, and that's all you need to call your weapons and follow him.

You reappear in another world, one you recognize all too well; you know the looming buildings, the dark alleys, the heart-shaped moon, you know them all by heart, no pun intended, and you dislike them, maybe would have hated them as a human. It's so different from Twilight Town; the town is cozy and warm, while this place is cold, sterile, lifeless.

Axel stumbles a few steps forward before he turns around. You, being prepared for the impact, land on both feet gracefully, your boots barely touching the ground before you surge forward, both keyblades in your hands, ready to fight.

Axel's bright eyes widen, and he gasps in surprise as he notices you coming after him. But his expression quickly turns into a gleeful grin, and he wastes no time to summon his chakrams. He barely manages to do that and raise both of those spiked wheels before your keyblades collide with them, creating a loud, violent sounding clash.

"Not so tired anymore, Roxie?" he laughs and shoves you back.

And just before you lunge at him again, you can't help but remember that he still didn't answer your question. He probably never will.

_Until you are able to feel, feelings will stay a mystery for you.

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**Author's Notes:** There you are. So, this is the beginning of my birthday gift to my dear beta kurosora1984. It's a pretty interesting experiment for me; a non-AU AkuRoku story entirely written from 2nd POV, with focus on either Roxas or Axel per chapter. I don't think I will ever try something like this again, though I must admit it's fun to write in 2nd POV for a change; not exactly easy, but fun.

Yeah, well. For some reason Salem wants to share this with y'all, so, here you go! I hope you enjoy it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Until you are able to feel, what he gives has to be enough for you. AkuRoku

**Warnings: **Blood and skin and sappy talking.

**Pairings:** AxelxRoxas

**Disclaimer:** Like always, I make no profit out of this, and the characters do not belong to me.

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**Until You Are Able To Feel – Chapter 2**

It is all a blur. You don't remember how it happened, and hell, you don't really care either. How could you not foresee their attack? How could you overlook the formation they formed, how could you not see the signs, and how in Kingdom Heart's name could you miss how they concentrated on _him_ rather than on _you_?

That didn't go as planned at all. You were supposed to attack the heartless first, to buy him some time; oh, he's an excellent fighter, maybe even better than you, even without an active element; but the constant missions Xemnas assigns him with start to wear him down. It was your idea; you said you would do most of the work this time, so he could hold back and save his strength.

But it didn't work out like you planned; probably because you found yourself facing way more Heartless than the survey report you got beforehand said. Hell, the whole floor is covered in Heartless, Shadows, Neo-Shadows, who knows what else; and while they are not strong, their number is just insane. There must be hundreds, and you wished you had brought your trusty Assassins with you.

But even worse: You forgot how the Heartless react to his weapons; you didn't think of their hunger, and how they crave to possess the keyblades. They of course instantly assaulted Roxas, and he, surprised that they weren't occupied by you, was unable to stop them all. He fought the best he could, which is pretty _damn_ good, and yet they quickly brought him down.

You were able to save him just in time.

You are holding him close, driving one of your chakrams into a Heartless' head, right between its yellow, beady eyes. Your other weapon lies on the floor next to you; you need one arm to cradle Roxas' lifeless body to your chest, as you kneel next to him, just praying and hoping he's still _alive_.

You rip your weapon out of the already dissolving, bug-like creature and throw a wild look around; the circle of fire you conjured up seems to keep them away for now. Some of the dumber ones try to just cross the line of fire that separates them from the one they believe to be the keyblade bearer. You let the fire burn hotter, and they dissolve into smoke and ashes instantly. The other Shadows stop; as dumb as they are, they know better than to run into their demise just like that. Soon their desire for the keyblades will overpower their instincts, but for now you seem safe.

Breathing heavily you glance down at your partner's pale face; you want to cry out relieved when you realize he's still breathing, but instead you now also drop the one chakram you're holding, causing it to vanish along with its twin. Roxas' keyblades disappeared a while ago, the very second he lost consciousness. Those fucking keyblades, you start to hate them. They cause nothing but trouble! You know the Organization needs them and all; you know you need them in order to obtain a heart, but right now you can only think that they cause nothing but pain for him. Roxas.

You pick him up carefully, grinning mirthlessly when you think that he wouldn't like to be carried like this; your one arm lies around his shoulders, the other one is under his knees, and his head is a dead weight against your shoulder.

You concentrate and open a dark portal, hurrying through it, whirling around and falling to your knees on the other side. You feel the flames around the portal die down on the other side, stripped of their power due to your absence. You hold Roxas up with the arm around his shoulders, raising your other hand and summoning a fireball over your palm, ready to strike.

But the Heartless are too slow anyway. The portal closes without giving a Shadow the chance to crawl through it.

You allow yourself a deep sigh and close your hand around the fireball, feeling the power you used to create it return to you. Tiny flames flicker between your fingers before you suck the fire back into your body.

You slump over Roxas' body, forcing air down your throat and into your lungs, still clutching Roxas' shoulder. You guess that would hurt him if he was awake; you feel a deep gash beneath your hand, one of so many.

Good thing he's still unconscious, and injured, or else you would have Oathkeeper driven through your chest by now. And Oblivion up your ass, you guess, because you know that little guy's temper.

It takes you some time to catch your breath again; you managed to slaughter dozens of heartless before he appeared in that world, and your limbs feel heavy. Your fighting style comes to you naturally, but it isn't exactly simple. Quite tiring, actually. After throwing the chakrams too often it feels like your arms are being ripped out of their sockets every time you catch them again.

You bite back a groan as you lift Roxas up again; he's not very heavy, actually he feels way too light, but really, your shoulders are killing you right now. And now that the adrenaline wears off, you can feel every cut and bite and claw mark on your body. Another coat ruined, hooray!

But then you look down at him again; you see the trail of dried blood running down the side of his face, see dark red clotting his golden hair, see how pale he is beneath all the blood, and the pain is forgotten.

So stupid! Why were you so _stupid_? You knew how Heartless react to the keyblades. It would have been best to let him ditch the mission; you could have done it alone, because Heartless never fight as fiercely when no keyblade is around. They barely even react to you; you have nothing they want, no keyblade, no heart. You could have just materialized amongst them, snip your fingers and let them die in a conjured blaze. And then you would have realized that there were more of them than the survey report had said; you would have been able to retreat and gather Assassins in no time, and strike again. But no, you wanted him to come with you; you thought it would be too boring of a mission to do alone, and you wanted him near you, and this is what became of your wish. He's injured, and badly at that.

You lower him onto your bed gently, and you're glad that you opened the portal right into your room. He's still out cold, doesn't react when you accidentally touch a nasty looking cut on his hip; he doesn't even react when you run a hand over his forehead to smooth golden strands of hair out of his sweaty face.

You don't know what to do; you see so many rips and cuts in his coat and you know every one of them represents an injury. But they don't seem serious; some of them really look painful, but he's used to pain. All of you are. None of the wounds seems life-threatening to you. But you can't really be sure as long as you haven't checked them.

But you know that's you're supposed to report the failure of your mission to Xemnas. He has to send someone else; Saïx and Xaldin, probably, as you know they have returned from their previous missions already.

Torn between your wish to stay with Roxas and make sure he's alright, and your duty as this mission's leader, you finally get up and leave the room.

But you know it's not your strong sense of duty that makes you leave. How laughable. You were never the type to obey orders without questioning them, and you don't like following rules.

No, it's the pain, the strange ache that wells up in that empty space where your heart should be when you look at Roxas. You know you failed him. You know you let him down. It was your plan, your fault. He's hurt, he's in pain, and it's your fault. While you wouldn't even think twice about it had it been anybody else, because, shit, even Saïx fails a mission every now and then, Roxas makes your failure so much _worse_. You can't look at his face right now. You're not sure if you'll ever be able to look into his eyes again.

Xemnas is at the top of that one tower, the one where he spends nearly all of his time lately. He's staring at Kingdom Hearts, possessively, _obsessed_, and doesn't seem to notice you when you approach him.

"Eight," he exclaims suddenly, and you stop. Fine, he _did_ notice you. Maybe he has eyes hidden in that silver hair of his, how else would he know? You are sure that you didn't make a sound. You're an assassin, the best Xemnas has; you know how to move silently. Even though it's Marluxia who wears the word in his title, you are the one in charge of the Assassin Nobodies, and there's a good reason for that.

"Superior," you mutter and resist the urge to look down to the ground. You can't show weakness. You are a member of Organization XIII, you are one of very few nobodies who were strong enough to keep their shape and mind when they were robbed of their heart; you are part of an organization consisting of Nobodies who wouldn't hesitate to destroy you if they knew about your weaknesses.

So you hold your head high, stare right into amber colored eyes when Xemnas decides to turn around and focus on you rather than the unfinished, heart-shaped moon above.

"Well, well," Xemnas drawls and smirks, his deep voice so very calm that you have to suppress a shiver. "If it isn't Number Eight. I believe I assigned you to a mission, didn't I?"

"Yes, Superior," you agree, and you are proud of yourself for keeping your voice so calm and steady. "I must report that the mission failed."

"_You_… failed a mission?" Xemnas replies, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "How?"

You can feel the urge to fidget nervously, so you straighten your shoulders and clasp your hands behind your back to keep them from showing your nervousness.

"The reports about the Heartless' numbers weren't correct," you state coolly, and you manage not to flinch when Xemnas raises his brows a little. "By my count the number was four to five times higher than the report showed. Thirteen was injured when they attacked him. He is not to blame; we were definitely outnumbered."

"Thirteen is injured?" Xemnas repeats, and you nod. "Well… Did the misinformation affect your planning on this mission, Eight?"

"Of course," you snarl, laying a hand on your hip and leaning forward a little, narrowing your eyes. "Two hundred Heartless I could take on easily with help of Thirteen. Eight hundred to a thousand would require at least two divisions of Assassin and Samurai Nobodies. Hell, the whole world was _crawling_ with those critters."

"I see," Xemnas says thoughtfully and nods. "Very well. How bad are his injuries?"

"I don't know exactly," you reply, and now you can no longer meet Xemnas' cold, amber gaze. "He was unconscious when I left, but he was breathing on his own, and the wounds didn't seem lethal…"

"I see." Another nod. He seems so unaffected by the news that his most precious organization member is injured, and for a moment, you think you _loathe_ him for it. It's silly, you know; he just _can't_ feel worried, and he doesn't care about faking emotions to make himself seem more human. He knows what he is, and he doesn't pretend to be what he isn't.

You on the other hand have to pretend, because if you didn't, you wouldn't be able to go on.

"I expect a full report at our next meeting. Marluxia will be punished for providing his superior with wrong information." He gestures towards the door, turning around again. "You are dismissed. But I entrust you with the care of Thirteen. He must heal as fast as possible; we cannot spare him for long."

You nod and turn around, leaving as quickly as possible. You pass Saïx on your way out; the blue-haired man smirks at you, showing sharp fangs, but you just smirk back, not intending to let yourself be intimidated. Seems like the Superior's favorite wants to keep him company while worshipping Kingdom Hearts.

You hurry through the hallways of the castle, glad that everybody seems still to be out on missions. You are quite sure that you would have killed anyone who decided to keep you from running back to your room, to Roxas.

You make it to your room in no time, and you don't hesitate to open the door. Your eyes search for Roxas' still form on the bed. You rush to his side when you notice how sickly white his skin has become, but heave a relieved sigh when you see the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He seems weak, but it's nothing a potion can't cure.

Well… you hope.

You sit down next to him, reaching across him to pull a small, blue bottle out of the drawer of your nightstand. You hide your potions everywhere in your room; you don't know why, you guess you just want to have one in reach anytime you return to your room from a mission.

"Hey, little guy," you say gently, laying a hand onto Roxas' shoulder and shaking him cautiously. He doesn't move, doesn't even stir; he's still only breathing softly, his chapped lips parted, and his blue eyes stay closed.

"Roxas," you try again, but you know it's futile. You don't know how much blood he lost. He might be out cold for quite a while.

You sigh again and pull your hand back, only to close it around the chain on the neckline of his coat. With practiced ease you undo the clasp and reach for the zipper, pulling it down all the way. You flinch when you notice all the blood; those Shadows really screwed him over this time.

Oh well. This is not the first time you do this.

Since he's not in the condition to help you, you simply pull him up against your chest, leaning him against your body to free your hands, only to shove them beneath his coat and remove the torn piece of clothing. You have to pull at the sleeves a little; they seem to be glued to his arms by sweat and blood, but finally you manage to get him out of the coat. It pools around him, a mess of black and dark, brownish red.

Next is the t-shirt; this one is easier, and you don't hesitate to rip it fully to get it off him. It's all torn up anyway, and it's not like there aren't tons of them in his dresser.

When his torso is bared you gently ease him back into your pillow. This time he does react when you move him; he winces, his face contorts in pain; his eyes flutter open for a moment as a pained groan slips past his lips, but immediately close again. His head rolls to the side, and he lies still.

You hurry to get him out of his gloves and boots, and you carefully peel his ripped pants off his legs. You take a deep breath and let it out with a small sigh as you take in the bruises and cuts and gashes covering his skin. You don't think anything's broken, but he still must be in pain.

"Shit, Roxas," you whisper to him, opening the potion. "Why didn't you just open a portal and run?"

Oh, you know why. He would never abandon a mission. He would never abandon _you_.

This is all your fault, and you know it.

"Why didn't _you_?" a hoarse whisper reaches your ear, and you look up slowly. His eyes are still closed, but you know he's awake now. He grimaces and bites his lip, but can't suppress a small, pained whine.

"Shut up," you mutter and turn the bottle in your hand, letting some of the bluish-green substance gather on your palm. You try to be gentle when you start to apply it to the deeper gashes, but still he flinches away from your touch. By the way he's breathing rapidly through his nose you can tell he's trying not to cry out. For a moment you're damn proud of him; that little guy is so _brave_, some of the older nobodies could really learn a thing or two from him… You just think of Zexion, that creep, or Demyx, that coward, or Larxene, who always tries to bash other people at the mission meetings in order to distract from her own mistakes, or Vexen, who spends so much time in his lab and barely leaves the castle for missions…

You'll have to make sure he takes a bath later; you know he won't like that you will have to assist him with it, but there's no way you let him do this on his own. He might drown himself out of exhaustion.

You use up the whole bottle, and still not all of his injuries are covered in the blue-green goo. But at least some of them close immediately as soon as the potion is absorbed by his skin. With a sigh you rummage through the drawer again, pulling out another potion and proceeding to tend to his wounds.

He tries to sit up, and without thinking you lay your hand onto his chest and push him down again. You wince when you hear him gasp, but you don't apologize. You just tell him to turn around, and he obediently follows, burying his face in your pillow.

Ouch. That gash running down his side looks painful…

You listen to his heavy breathing, and even though you know you _can't_ feel, you feel bad. You feel responsible for his pain. How could you possible make it up to him?

As you watch the last bit of potion being absorbed by his skin, you remember something; a conversation you two had not too long ago. You could…

"I remember what it was like…" you whisper, and he slowly turns his head. He stares at the wall, not at you, furrowing his brow.

"What?" he rasps out, and you gently turn him around again, not minding that your sheets will be stained with potion; they are full of blood already, so why bother? You hold out the rest of the potion to him and help him to sit up a little. He takes the bottle with a sigh and sips at it, grimacing at the taste. You have to smile at that; you don't know why he doesn't like it, you always found potions quite tasty. But he's also infatuated with that ice cream of his, and you always thought that blue stuff tasted weird. He's just an odd kid.

"I remember," you repeat a bit louder, "what it was like to feel."

His eyes move to take a look at your face. He tilts his head to the side a little.

"What?" he asks again. Seems like he forgot your little talk a few days ago.

"You asked me if I remembered," you explain. "A few days ago. The answer is yes. I remember what it was like. I remember my… other life."

"Oh," he says quietly. You know that makes him uncomfortable; he's somewhat… ashamed, you guess, that he can't remember anything about his Other. When he looks like that you want to tell him about Sora so badly, but you can't. He will remember one day anyway.

"I don't want to think about it too much," you explain, looking down at your hands. You grimace at the sticky potion still covering your gloves, and with a shrug you pull them off, flexing your fingers a little.

"Why not?" he asks, his voice very quiet and very… innocent, you could say. "Wasn't it nice to feel?"

"Sometimes," you admit. "Sometimes not. But that's not it. It's… complicated to explain."

"You don't have to…" he starts meekly, but you shake your head.

"You know," you say slowly, raking a hand through your wild spikes. "It's just… Every time I think about it… Every time I think about how it was to feel, I know I should… well… _feel_ something. I should long for the emotions. I should… crave for a heart, so I can feel again, but… That's the point, I _can't_. I know I lost something very precious that day the Heartless got me… my Other, but… but I can't really _care_ about it." You pull at your hair in frustration. Why can't you explain it better? "I… I remember emotions. I can mimic them too, I can fake them, but that's all they are: _Fake_. And I know that; I try to forget it, but deep down I know that they are not real, because the real thing was so much more intense than anything I could fake. So… I try not to think about it and just _live_… as good as a nobody _can_ live."

You both stay silent for a while. You look at him; his eyes are downcast, and he's biting his lip again. You try to think that he looks adorable, like a child, and you realize that you can't see him as a child anymore. His questions, his way to act, his way to think is just too mature. A boy his age shouldn't be so solemn, so serious.

"When I'm with you on top of the clock tower," you add hesitantly, and now he glances at you again, his expression unreadable. It is unreadable most of the time. You never know what he's thinking. "… the feelings I fake don't seem so wrong anymore."

And now he just stares at you, his deep blue eyes wide, and again you have to smile. You lean forward to get a better look at his face when he suddenly looks down, and you notice a pale pink tingeing his cheeks under all the blood and the dirt.

"Awwwww, Roxie, are you being bashful?" you tease him, and now he glares at you. You instinctively back down a little. For someone who looks so cute and innocent, that boy sure knows how to glare.

"As you just pointed out, my body is just _faking_ being bashful," he hisses, and you resist pointing out that you never said it was the _body_ that did the faking. He's uncomfortable now, and he's injured. You should just let him be.

"Right," you say and smile sadly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

You turn around on the bed, face away from him. You don't want to look at him anymore; you know he's disappointed that the memory of feeling isn't as great as he thinks it was.

But then you feel a hand touch yours; you flinch and look down, watch his hand covering yours.

"No, I'm glad you told me," he says behind you. He hesitates for a moment. "I… I enjoy our time up at the clock tower too… You make the imitation of… feelings… more real…"

He falls silent, and you both stay like this for a moment.

"Sap," you finally mutter, and you grin when you hear him gasp.

"Idiot," he replies, and just like that, everything seems normal between you two again. You smile at him, and he just glares; you don't mind, because you know he's not mad. He would have pointed out that he can't be. He doesn't even remember what it's like.

You remember, but the memories are painful.

_Until you are able to feel, all that remains are your memories.

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**Author's Notes: **As you probably noticed, I'm pretty much on a hiatus right now. I'm sorry for all those who are still waiting for me to update any of my stories, mainly Perfect Match, but as much as I'd love to update, I can't write anything good right now. It's very frustrating, but personal stuff takes most of my time right now. I'm sorry. I'm also sorry that I failed to stay in touch with the few people who didn't give up on me and kept writing me emails and all - Somehow I think I managed to drive them away with my months of silence. Sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** Until you are able to feel, what he gives has to be enough for you. AkuRoku

**Warnings: **Kissus, not between Blondie and Red though. Oh. Aaaah, yeah, and this story completely disregards both 356/2 Days and Birth by Sleep, since it was started before both games were out, and I didn't want to include characters from those games as long as I hadn't played them myself; so, no Xion, as much as that saddens me. She was so cute in Days! :( Poor girl.

**Pairings:** AxelxRoxas, with a hint of RoxasxNaminé

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, the worlds, or anything, really; except for the plot, and that one's not even that original.  
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**Until You Are Able To Feel – Chapter 3**

There. You did it again. You sneaked into another world, without permission. The Superior will not be pleased if he finds out…

You sigh, resting your head on your arms folded on a table. As if you were able to care that the Superior will freak out about his most precious Organization member gone missing.

Against your will you have to grin at the thought of Xemnas freaking out. Yeah, right, as if that would ever happen. Besides… hey, all the others leave the castle to visit other worlds between the missions. They never ask for permission either.

Your smile fades quickly; it feels so dull and hollow, you see no point in keeping it up. You're not able to feel amused. Your body just fakes it, probably out of habit… Your Other must have been a really happy person for you to act like this. Even though you can't remember anything about him, you often feel obliged to smile about stupid little things. Those smiles hurt; because you can't understand them, and because they remind you so much about your status. Nobody. A shell.

But… there are times when your smile does not hurt. When you can even laugh, without remembering that you aren't supposed to feel amused or happy.

You can only truly smile when you're with Axel… and you just don't get _why_. Why him? Is it because he fakes emotions so well? No other Nobody you know can laugh like he does; it's almost like he's really amused about something…

He told you once that the feelings he fakes don't feel so wrong when he's with you. And you said that you feel the same… basically. But when you are not with him, you're not sure about that anymore. You start to doubt that there are times when you can forget that you're only an empty shell; a _Nobody_. You doubt that there is anything that can make you forget that the emotions you believe to feel are nothing but fake.

And then you're with him, and you _can_ forget about being a Nobody and just laugh about his crude jokes.

So confusing. It's just so damn confusing!

You sigh once more; you lost count how many of those wary sounds left your mouth today. But everything seems so pointless; you go on mission after mission, you kill heartless after heartless, but what for? Oh, Xemnas promises you a heart; a life, a purpose – you just have to complete Kingdom Hearts. But there are so many other things he doesn't tell you. He never tells you about your Other. He doesn't tell you why you are so important, why the Keyblade chose you…

You're not even sure if you want to know anything about all these things. Sometimes you just wished you were human.

You look up when you hear loud screaming. Those are not cries of pain or fear you hear – You would have recognized those. No, but they sound angry. Hurt, maybe.

It's funny, how well you seem to recognize the emotions you aren't capable of feeling yourself. Your body reacts to this with an amused snort.

There are a man and a woman. Very young. Older than you, of course, but still… Maybe about Axel's age, but then again, you don't even know how old he is. You know so little about the man you call your best friend.

But those two, the man and the woman, they are no older than twenty-five, and they yell at each other, not minding the blond boy sitting at one of the stone tables in the park. Of course not. Something about you Nobodies just makes you… unimportant to others. Inconspicuous. Almost _invisible_.

So you are able to keep watching, and they never notice you.

The woman screams at the man. She tells him he hurt her. He yells back that he never wanted to. She doesn't believe him. She tries to get away. He holds her back, she whirls around and slaps him, then she starts to cry.

You stare at this display of emotion in disbelief. You've watched them for just a few minutes, and the spectrum of emotions they went through already reaches from anger to remorse, to pain and to sadness.

You know those feelings are unpleasant. You know you could call yourself lucky, because you'll never know how unpleasant they can be.

And yet you long for them so deeply; you don't care that they are nothing you should long for. Even if they are not pleasant emotions to feel, they _are_ emotions, and you want to feel something so desperately.

It's probably the only thing you can long for, you think wistfully, and you feel another wry smile stretch your lips.

You Nobodies are pathetic creatures. You crave for emotions, and you curse your overwhelming craving at the same time. It's probably the only thing you can feel at all, and you want nothing more than to sate this longing and make it go away.

The man stays silent, holding his cheek, staring at the floor. The woman is still crying, hiding her face in her hands.

You keep watching, as if watching this scene could make you understand what it is like to feel.

It can't. You know that. It's not the first time you did this. You've watched humans before, and you never understood their actions. And yet you stay, silent and still, and you watch them.

The man looks up again. He stammers something; something about how sorry he is. He apologizes, again and again, as if it would make whatever he did to her go away.

She slaps him again, and again he raises his hand to touch his cheek. But when she turns around he quickly reaches out and traps her in a tight embrace.

You expect her to fight against him; it's what you would do, if anybody held you back against your will. There, she could grab his arm and twist it, that would make him lose his concentration and she could…

She slumps against him, and you feel cheated. Why doesn't she _fight_? It's obvious she doesn't want to be with that guy anymore, but she doesn't seem to want to leave either.

Quite the contrary, she even throws her arms around his neck and continues to cry into his jacket. He holds her and rubs her back. You guess it's meant comforting, but she doesn't seem to calm down.

Finally he reaches up to touch her face; he cups her cheek and forces her to look up.

And then they kiss. And you can do nothing but stare.

You know what they do is called kissing. You don't know _how_ you know; sometimes you just know things, even though nobody explained them to you. It must be your Other's memory or something. You never understood how it worked.

But you know that they are kissing, and you know that it is something very intimate; an expression of deeper emotions, of closeness. You don't understand it – their mouths are touching, that's all, and yet they suddenly seem so much _closer_. But why should a touching of lips show their emotions so well? And why are their movements suddenly growing so desperate and heated and jerky and…

"Voyeur," a voice speaks up directly next to your ear. You don't even flinch, but keep your eyes fixed on the kissing couple over there.

"Moron," you just mutter back, falling into your usual pattern without effort.

They didn't notice you before, but they notice _him_. Understandable, in your opinion. You are just a boy, plain and unremarkable. You doubt that it would be any different if you were human, not a Nobody.

He, on the other hand, is flamboyant; eye-catching because of his looks, but it's more than that. Even though he's a Nobody he seems to have… a _presence_.

You feel his hand on your head, and you don't resist as he pushes your head down.

"That's not suited for a kid like you," he jokes, and you want to strangle him. _Kid_. Oh, how you hate that word…

There it is again. He's with you, and suddenly you think you are able to hate an innocent little word.

"Shut up," you mumble into your arms, then you look up again. The couple glances at you shyly, then the man whispers something to the woman. She smiles, very shy, very cautious, but it's a smile nonetheless; he wipes a tear from her cheek, and she giggles softly.

How strange. It's like the kiss wiped out the negative feelings from before.

You watch them walk away, but your view is soon disturbed by a gloved hand waving in front of your face.

"You there?" he asks, and his voice sounds oddly cheerful. From the corner of your eye you can see him sit on the table, crossing his long legs and folding his arms in front of his chest as he leans down to grin at you. You refuse to look at him directly.

"What do you want, Axel?" you sigh, forcing faked annoyance into your voice, and you expect him to laugh and tousle your hair and call you 'kid' again.

But he keeps his hands to himself for once, straightening up again. He stays silent for a while, but when he speaks up again, the playfulness in his voice is gone.

"You shouldn't be here, Roxas," he mutters, and you wish you could believe he is concerned about you, like the strange tone of his voice suggests. "You know you're not allowed…"

"What makes you think I care?" you ask and smile bitterly. What a joke.

"You know you can't go to other worlds alone, Roxas," he still insists. "What if there was a heartless invasion while you're alone? You know how they react to your Keyblade."

Ah, so that is what this is about. He's concerned about the Keyblade.

Fuck him.

"What makes you think I _care_?" you repeat, sharper than before. "So what if the heartless get me? Xemnas is talking about that new Keyblade wielder he's searching for all the time anyway, what would you need me f-…"

"Fuck, Roxas, not that again," he interrupts you, and you know he's pinching the bridge of his nose like he's having a headache, without looking at him. You two spend too much time together. "I don't care about your fucking Keyblade. I just want to make sure you're not getting yourself killed with all the sneaking into other worlds."

"It's none of your business what I do between my missions," you growl coldly.

"I'm making it my business," he hisses back, and now he grabs your arm. You still don't look at him. "Why do you think watching humans will help you understand their feelings? You know you're just making yourself miserable by doing this. You don't have a heart, Roxas. You won't understand what they feel, or why they act like they do, until you obtain a heart."

It gets harder and harder not to look at him. You're not used to that; while all the others always brag about your lack of hearts (except for Demyx, maybe), Axel is always careful not to mention it around you. Of course he can't keep it out of your conversations, mostly because you always bring it up yourself, but he tries to make it seem less important. That he said it so directly – _You don't have a heart, Roxas!_ – startles you somewhat.

"Leave me alone," you want to yell, but it only comes out in a tired sigh.

"No can do, and you know it," is his equally weary reply. "Just stop being such a brat and go home."

_Home_. _Home_? You don't know what a _home_ is. The bare, empty room in the Castle That Never Was? That's ridiculous.

"I won't leave until I know you're safe," he adds, and now he sounds angry. You finally turn your head to look at him. He still hasn't moved; he sits on the stone table, without the organization coat, but in the usual black shirt, pants and high boots, arms crossed in front of his chest. His bright eyes are narrowed, which makes them appear even more dangerous and predatory than usual.

Only now you notice the deep gash running down his right arm.

"You should take a potion," you comment, nodding at the wound. He probably just returned from a mission or something.

"I will," he agrees, but he's still glaring at you. "As soon as I know you're home and safe and won't sneak out of the castle on your own again."

"Everyone else does it," you grind out angrily, returning his glare with one of your own. "Why…"

"But you're not like everyone else, dammit!" he yells, and all of a sudden red flames explode around his clenched fists, quickly spreading all over his body. You guess he looks frightening, so completely engulfed in the flames, and you can hear someone screaming; maybe even you would have been scared had you been capable of feeling, because he looks so different from all the times you've seen him like this before. When he uses his abilities while training, he's just grinning most of the time, teasing you and insulting you playfully. When you're fighting side by side against heartless, his expression varies from a malicious smirk to a look of utmost concentration.

He looks _livid_ now. That's a new one.

"Stop being so _dramatic_," you say tonelessly and try to turn away. A burning hand grabs you and whirls you around again, and you're forced to look into jade green eyes.

"Don't think I won't drag you back and tie you down until Xemnas assigns you to your next mission, Roxas," he hisses threateningly, and fire dances in his hair and flickers over his pale skin. You don't doubt he will do that if you give him a reason.

"You're scorching my clothes, idiot," you retort sharply. His hand on your shoulder twitches, and the flames vanish, but the grip around your shoulder only tightens, and the enraged scowl on his pale face deepens.

"You will come with me, Roxas," he declares quietly.

"Fuck you," you answer, smiling sickeningly sweet. His eyes widen for a moment, his surprise at your crude choice of words evident. But he regains his composure quickly.

"You're not allowed to visit worlds on your own," he grinds out, and you know he's having a hard time keeping his voice down. You can't help but think he's faking anger really well. "Why couldn't you just wait for me? I would have gone with you."

"Maybe I don't want to spend all my time with you," you reply… and you immediately want to take the words back as he stiffens, pulling his hand from your shoulder. By now the flames have died down again, and you can't see even the slightest evidence of his outburst anymore. No, his expression is quite unreadable now.

"I see," he snarls, and if you didn't know it better, you'd say he sounds hurt. He slides from the table, opens a portal with a flick of his wrist. You decide not to resist when he grabs your arm again, hauling you from your seat and roughly yanking you through the portal. It would be futile to struggle anyway. You don't want him to carry out his threat and actually tie you down to keep you from running away. Not that you wouldn't put up a fight. But he's still older than you, more experienced; not to mention a lot faster, thanks to his unique fighting style. And he probably would have no qualms about asking someone else to help him either.

He shoves you against the nearest wall as soon as you step out of the portal, but you refuse to show your surprise. You return his cold glare unblinking.

"The next time you feel the urge to be alone, stay in your fucking room or go and count heartless critters from atop of Memory's Skyscraper, you brat," he hisses, and you narrow your eyes at the 'brat'. "I don't care, as long as you don't just _run away_! I'm so tired of playing your babysitter. The next time you run off without telling anyone, I won't bother to look for you."

"I never asked you to!" you growl in return, but he just lets go of your shirt and turns around to leave.

"I never asked you to follow me!" you repeat a bit louder, but he just flips you off, then presses his uninjured hand against the wound in his arm and inspects it, ignoring you completely. You glare at his shock of red hair until he vanishes through another dark portal.

You try to be angry, because he called you a brat and tried to boss you around, and because he followed you. He wasn't supposed to find you. You wanted to be alone for once. But of course you can't feel the anger, and now that he's gone you can't even pretend.

You sigh deeply, turning around to open the door to your room. But you don't do it, you freeze with your hand on the handle.

You know that Axel tries to protect you. He was assigned to watch over you when you were first introduced to the Organization, and somehow he still seems to think it's his duty to keep you safe. He always finds you, regardless which world you flee to. It's annoying and frustrating, but somehow… it also makes you feel like you're important, at least to him. And… he always says that he likes being around you. That you make his pretended emotions more real.

You wish you could believe it.

Suddenly you don't want to go to your room anymore. You feel the overwhelming urge to run off to another world again, and you don't know if it is because you want to spite Axel or to make him search for you again.

You stay like this for a while, staring down at your hand on the handle, and your thoughts return to the world you visited earlier. It was a small village near Beast's Castle; you believe it was the village the Princess of Hearts of this world, Belle, originated from. And before you can stop yourself, you think about the couple you watched again.

So emotional… They had to be lovers. Yes, of course they were. You watched them kiss, did you not? The kiss…

You find yourself wondering again why something simple like a kiss made them forget about their fight. Does kissing have some… memory-altering function? You still don't know how kissing works, just bits and pieces of buried memories that are not your own seem to surface from the deepest depths of your mind. It's important. It's meaningful. It's an expression of feelings. You know that much.

You wonder what it would feel like.

You look up and to the side – to a door further down the hallway that looks no different than the one you're leaning against.

Your steps reverberate from the bare walls of the highway as you slowly make your way over to the door. You don't even hesitate for a second before you reach out and open the door, entering a room that's decorated with color instead of showing pristine white, like your own room does.

The blonde witch, the only occupant of the room, turns away from the window she was gazing out of. Unfinished pictures are scattered over the desk she uses to draw, the finished ones on the walls showing scenes that are unfamiliar to you.

"Roxas," Naminé greets you, smiling gently. Her pale blond hair falls over one shoulder, her fair complexion accentuating the deep blue of her eyes.

You close the door behind yourself, and you try to figure out why exactly you came here… You don't talk to Naminé often, no one does. She's just as precious to the Organization as you are, but she seems to be even more of an outcast than you.

"What brings you here?" she asks politely, but reserved, clasping her hands behind her back.

Without an answer you cross the room until you stand right in front of her. She doesn't even flinch, just looks at you calmly. She only frowns slightly when you raise a hand to touch her cheek, her eyes flitting down, widening a little in surprise.

She doesn't make a sound when you lean forward to brush your lips against hers. She just freezes, blue eyes wide, and you frown a little, not closing your eyes either. Wait… aren't your eyes supposed to be closed?

You allow your eyes to slide shut, pressing your mouth against hers just a little more firmly; she gasps, very quiet, tries to flinch back, but you quickly raise your second hand to her face, holding her back.

There is a slight tingle where your lips meet hers, but not more. You experimentally move your lips, not exactly knowing what to do, just trying to copy what you saw the couple do earlier; she sighs again, but… there's nothing inside you. You don't feel anything. If a kiss could make you feel, you should feel by now, but you don't.

You let go of her, step back, run a hand through your unruly hair and down your face as a frustrated sigh slips from your mouth. Why just doesn't it _work_?

Naminé stares at you, seeming quite baffled; you notice a slight blush tingeing her pale cheeks, the only color you ever saw on her, other than the blue of her big eyes.

"Why did you do that?" she asks, frowning at you. Of course she can't be angry or scared, and she also quickly overcomes the shock.

"I'm sorry," you reply quietly, not even offering her an explanation as you turn around and leave her room again. But you can't help but think that it's a lie; you don't feel sorry, you just can't be, and you don't even know why you said it. It was just an experiment, and if you had just told her that, she would have understood; she's craving for emotions just as much as you, maybe she would have even offered you her help had she seen the chance that kissing would make her feel something. Kissing takes a boy and a girl after all, doesn't it? But it didn't work anyway, the experiment has failed.

No, you can't be sorry, and she knows that as well.

_Until you are able to feel, none of your apologies will be real.

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**Author's Notes: **Ah, I love how emotions just seem to _happen_ when Axel's around. :)

And if I portrayed the characters wrongly, I apologize; but it's not exactly to keep them in character when a) the story was started before any of the games provided a proper characterization for them and b) they are supposed to be emotionless, yet it should be a romance story. Bleh. I always forget that they are not supposed to _feel_!

Anyway! Thanks for reviews! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** Until you are able to feel, what he gives has to be enough for you. AkuRoku

**Warnings: **Emotional Outbursts That Shouldn't Be Possible. :)**  
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**Pairings:** AxelxRoxas

**Disclaimer: **... Bah. You know. The usual. **  


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**Until You Are Able To Feel – Chapter 4**

You glance at your partner, and you can't believe how good it feels to sit here with him. He plays with the straw of his drink, nervously looking around, as if he feared people would recognize him as a Nobody, a _fiend,_ as soon as they laid eyes on him.

He looks perfectly normal, just like any teenage boy, but you refrain from telling him that. He doesn't believe you anyway. It's like he thinks there's a dark cloud looming over him that gives his true nature away.

You lean back and allow yourself a pleased smirk; just a week ago Roxas and you had a fight about how he doesn't want to spend all his time with you and shit like that; about how he doesn't want you to follow him whenever he decides to vanish for a few hours and worry you to death with his carelessness. Not that he would believe for one second that you're actually worried.

But the fight seems to have convinced him that he shouldn't run off on his own anymore. As far as you know, he always came to you and asked you to join him when he wanted to visit another world ever since then. He even apologized to you one day after the fight, and he promised he would not run off again.

It's forbidden. You are not supposed to go to other worlds, not without a mission. And he is way more important to the Organization than you are, so he's supposed to be here even less. Yet you can't _not_ give in when he looks at you like that; faked longing etched onto his features, his trembling voice betraying his cool demeanor when he asks you to get him _out of there_. You obey every time. Maybe because the empty, hollow world that is your home drives you insane as well.

This time he didn't even want to just hide somewhere and watch people interact; he wanted to mingle with the crowd, try to be one of them, which is even more forbidden than leaving the World That Never Was. He doesn't get it though, anyway. He just can't get it right. Maybe because he still can't remember how to be one of them. When the waitress of the café sauntered over to your table, smiling and wishing him a marvelous day, he just stared her. You can't blame her for becoming nervous as he stared; that kid's stare _is_ pretty unnerving. He doesn't even seem to blink, for fuck's sake! Oh, you know he _does_, as his glare was directed at you more than once; but you just can't _see_ it. All you can see when he stares at you is… _blue_. Deep, mysterious, fucking unbelievable _blue_.

You, on the other hand, remember how to be charming, no problem. So you just presented the waitress your most handsome smile and a few flirtatious compliments and got yourself a free drink… You'll still have to pay for Roxas', though. Ha, not that you intended to pay at all. If it wasn't for Roxas, you would probably just set the damn café on fire and watch it burn to smithereens from the sunny beach while drinking your fruity, nutty cocktail… thing… _Sweet Darkness_, it even has little paper umbrellas in it…

"You're thinking of burning the café down," Roxas states, finally daring to sip on his own drink. He wrinkles his nose at the taste, shoving the glass away.

"Yep," you agree. Denying it would be pointless. Ha, you love your fiery abilities…

Well… You would love them if you…

… You're starting to sound like Roxas. Oh, great, just _great_.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, a bit annoyed at your own thoughts, and take a sip from your own drink. Not bad. Not good either. You can barely taste anything. It's dull, pointless. As pointless as pretended feelings and subdued pain. Why are you even _here_?

"You won't," he adds, a threatening undertone finding its way into his calm voice.

Right. You're here because of him. How he holds such power over you is beyond you; you should be elsewhere, instructing your minions, training, _killing_, whatever.

"Noooooo," you reply and glance at him again. "Hey, I know how to behave around humans."

"Really," he snorts, sounding vaguely amused. "Your usual behavior around them would be beheading them with your stupid, unhandy weapons. And then you would set them on fire."

"I'm not on a mission, kiddo, and they are not heartless. Besides, I _promised_ I wouldn't kill anyone, so relax," you just say and grin before you suck on your straw again. Too bad the alcohol doesn't have any effect on you. "And I would set them on fire _before_ I'd chop off their heads, thanks. What good would it be to make them burn if they can't feel it anymore?" You huff in faked annoyance. "Don't you know anything about me, Roxas? I'm _hurt_."

"Moron," he mutters, but you can see him smile before he lowers his head to hide it.

"At least my weapons aren't oversized keys," you retort, narrowing your eyes at him. "And my chakrams are not stupid. They are beautiful, fire-proof, deadly instruments of destruction. Better watch your tongue, if you don't want to have them slicing through your intestines."

"You just had to add the 'fire-proof', didn't you?" he sighs, but he's still smiling.

"That's a very important criterion." You take another sip, turning your head to watch the people at the beach again.

"It's not like us others' weapons would just melt away if you set them on fire," he replies bored, propping his chin in one hand.

"I'm not so sure about that. I'm just _that_ hot."

"Axel?"

"Hm?"

"Why do you have a presence?"

You almost forget to swallow the mouthful of cocktail, and your head whips around as you stare at Roxas, who still isn't looking at you. You eventually remember to gulp the fruity beverage down, coughing as you accidentally get some of it into your windpipe.

Well, you certainly didn't see that one coming.

"The hell, Roxas?" you croak, clearing your throat and putting your drink down. "What the fuck does _that_ mean?"

"People _notice_ you," he explains, completely oblivious to your almost-choking. He frowns. "But you're a Nobody. They usually don't notice Nobodies. But they notice _you_. You have a _presence_. Why?"

"How the fuck would _I_ know? What do you mean, a _presence_?" you ask dumbfounded. You find yourself wondering what the hell is going on in that blond little head of his.

"They're staring at you."

"They would stare at you too if you dyed your hair pink, Blondie."

"It's probably because you're so beautiful…" he exclaims thoughtfully, ignoring your objection.

You're really glad that you weren't drinking right now, or else you would probably have choked. It's hard enough to breathe as it is.

"What the fuck is up with you today?" you finally snicker, unable to contain your amusement any longer. You grin from ear to ear as you notice his expression growing more and more uncomfortable. He glances at you from the corners of his eyes.

"What's so funny?" he asks defensively, pouting when you chuckle quietly. He probably has no idea how much he looks like a human boy right now.

"_You_," you answer leisurely, leaning forward slightly, allowing your grin to fade into a softer smile. "Would you care to explain what the fuck you mean by that?"

You watch him fidget, bite his lip, sigh, glance up, look away. You know he can't be embarrassed – he pointed it out to you more often than you can count, but you have to think he fakes it awfully well.

Sometimes you wonder if he's a Nobody at all.

"It's just…" he starts, but interrupts himself again. Then he glances to the side, pointing somewhere. You follow his finger and meet the eyes of some girl; a petite brunette, who looks away blushing.

"She was staring at you," Roxas explains calmly, then he points somewhere else. This time you don't bother looking into the direction he's pointing; you settle on gazing at him instead, propping your chin in one hand. "She too. Oh, and she. The redhead over there too. The whole group at the table over there. Oh, and the waitress keeps glancing at you. As does the waiter." You can't help but snort amused at that. "I can't believe you didn't notice that. You're an oblivious jerk."

"Why, thank you, Roxie," you purr, smirking lazily. "So you think I'm _beautiful_?"

"Well, you sure fit most criteria," he replies, and by the way he furrows his brow you can tell he's changing pretending bashfulness for faking annoyance. "Except for that moronic grin. What the hell is so funny?"

"I think the term you were searching for was 'dazzling smile'," you coo and flutter your eyelids. It only aggravates him further.

"The term 'moronic grin' fits perfectly, thank you," he disagrees, and his soft, smooth voice is dripping with venom.

"Oh, you know you love me."

"No, I don't. Because I _can't_."

"And you know you will get your ass kicked as soon as we return."

"…Why is that?"

"Oh, I dunno… Because you _deserve_ it?"

He blinks, puzzled; his eyes widen slightly, and the pure innocence in his look threatens to take your breath away. You know you shouldn't be affected by him like this. Maybe it's his element that gives him this aura of pureness, maybe it's his Other, Sora; whatever it is, it makes it impossible to be mad at him when he looks at you like that, questioning, confused, almost pouting; so fucking _naïve_.

"I didn't do anything," he says quietly, and as he leans back and crosses his arms, his lips move to form a full-fledged pout. "I was being nice to you all day. Why are you mad at me now?"

"Oh, but I can't be mad, remember?" you sneer at him, trying to resist his innocent act. For it is only an act; he's not innocent, because he is a sin against life itself. It's only fake; just like everything else in your life.

"You're not making sense, Axel," he declares and rises from his seat.

"And you're an idiot," you reply, smirking mirthlessly. And then you flinch back with a loud yelp as cold, sticky, fruity smelling liquid hits your face. That little runt just dumped his drink over your head!

"Watch what you're saying, asshole," he says calmly.

"Watch what you're doing, brat," you reply hoarsely, running a hand over your sticky, wet face. The alcohol evaporates under your gloved hands. You never notice the heat your body emits; others say your hands get scorching hot at times.

You wipe the liquid from your face, flinging it at the nearest wall with a flick of your wrist. The dry wood the bar is made out of catches fire.

You smirk, never taking your eyes off Roxas. His expression darkens, his eyes narrow, but they still stay cold. Even when the flames spread and consume the wall behind yourself too quickly to be natural, when tiny red flames start to dance in his blue eyes, even then they stay like dead.

"Stop it," he says calmly. You can't hear the words, all the other guests screeching and yelling too loudly for you to distinguish his soft voice. But you can see his lips move, and you know him all too well. He's not pleased about you breaking your promise.

"Oops," you laugh and stretch your arms upwards, feeling the flames behind you following your lead. You gracefully rise from your already burning chair, commanding the fire to circle around your tall, slender body.

Roxas seems unimpressed. He reaches out, not minding the flames licking at his clothes, and grabs the collar of your coat, forcing you down until you are at eye level. You're still smirking, but then something changes; you don't feel like grinning anymore when you realize the expression in his eyes has changed. They aren't cold anymore. They are blazing with anger. Real anger. A real emotion.

"Stop it, Axel," he hisses, barely loud enough for you to hear. "If you kill one human in here, I will personally end your non-existence."

And you don't doubt he will do just that. Right now you really believe he would be able to kill you, just because the raw emotion in his eyes would render you helpless.

You're still too stunned to react right away, but when he narrows his eyes you hurry to fight the fire around you down.

And with the flames the emotion swirling in Roxas' clear azure eyes vanishes. For a second you feel the overwhelming urge to apologize, to explain that it was supposed to be a joke, or to do something incredibly stupid, just to bring back the emotion in his eyes, but you hesitate; the guilt you're feeling is so unfamiliar, you don't know how to deal with it. Remorse about your actions is something even your Other barely felt; as a Nobody you're completely at a loss how to handle it. So you let the moment pass, and the all too familiar emptiness fills his eyes again.

He lets go of your coat and nods, pleased that he got his way. When he turns around you instinctively try to retort something snotty, but for some reason your sarcasm fails you, and you close your mouth again. You can't think of anything to say, not even when you hear him chuckle softly.

"Good boy," he mutters, and not even now you're able to tell him off, like you would do usually. It's like the flash of real emotion in a Nobody's eyes has temporarily paralyzed you. You've never felt so lost before. Not even when you lost your heart.

After an endless moment you follow Roxas outside. He's watching the still panicky crowd running around the beach, lips set in a grim line.

Once more you try to remark something sarcastic, to cover up your moment of weakness before. But again the words just die on your tongue, so you stay silent and keep watching Roxas watching scared humans.

"Why did you have to freak out like that?" Roxas whispers, and you don't know how to answer that. "Why do you _always_ have to overdo everything like that? Why do you have to be so hot-tempered? You promised…"

"I just promised not to harm a human," you snarl, and you immediately regret that those will be the first words you tell him after you saw him express real feelings for the first time. But you have to defend yourself. You didn't break your promise, at least that's what you tell yourself. By looking at him you know he does not quite agree. You probably sound pathetic, and you hate being so defensive. "Nobody was hurt. Come on, no one is burning!" Your tone becomes more and more aggressive; when Roxas glances at you, you are close to summoning your weapons and attacking him for staying so calm. How can he be like that when you two fight, but become angry when you barely scratch humans? Why can they rouse feelings in him when you can't?

"I didn't break my promise," you hiss defensively, "Nobody was hurt."

"But you harmed humans," he retorts sharply, and you close your mouth, stunned by his tone. "What about the owners? Or the people who work here?"

For a minute or two you can only stare at him, rendered speechless by the sheer absurdity of his reasoning. Why should you care if those weaklings lose their _jobs_? He shouldn't care either; at least he does not during your missions.

"Why the fuck do you _care_?" you blurt out, unable to control yourself any longer. You're confused, and angry; or at least you remember what angry felt like very clearly right now. You notice how he flinches, how his eyes flit over the staring people, and your fingers itch to close themselves around his neck and strangle him; for deeming _them_ more important than _you_.

You reach out to grab his shoulder and turn him around, forcing him to look you in the eye.

"Why do you give a fuck about them, Roxas?" you yell, and you shake him lightly, ignoring how he narrows his eyes. "They are weak! Useless! They are Heartless' fodder! They will never be as strong, or have superior abilities like we do!" _'They are not like us! They are not like you! I am like you, I understand you, I can relate! They will never understand you! Why are they more important than me?'_

"Why do you care about them so much?" you end your query.

"Because I want to be like them, Axel," he answers softly, taking your hands and gently pulling them away from his body. You're feeling too tired to resist all of a sudden. "Don't lie to yourself. You wish you were like them too. You want what they have. A normal life. A heart."

All you can do is rip your hands out of his and turn around, because he is right, so right, but you won't admit it, not even to yourself. The all too painful emptiness inside you grows stronger the longer you think about it, and frustrated you wish you could be angry.

You're just about to open a portal and leave when you hear Roxas hiss, "Oh, now _you_ want to make a dramatic exit? You, asshole, have no right to act like that! You broke your promise, just because I obviously said something that offended you somehow! But you know what? _Fuck you_, you drama queen!"

And then _he_ opens a portal and leaves you alone with the now screaming crowd. You stare after him unbelievingly, your hand still raised to channel darkness to form a portal, your eyes wide open. And you don't know whether to laugh hysterically or burn the remains of the café for good in a fit of rage.

And _he_ dares to call _you_ a drama queen?

You finally settle on lowering your hand and chuckling softly, shaking your head. You know you should probably have followed him – it's not good to leave him alone when he's in one of his nearly-emotional moods. His portal has closed while you were frozen in shock about his emotional outburst, but it's not like you don't know where you will find him. You know him all too well, you always find him somehow.

You jump through your own dark portal, glad that it cuts off the surprised and fearful screams of the crowd at that dreadful beach. The warm, orange light of the sunset greets you, and like always you can hear some children laugh and yell somewhere in the distance.

You arrive just in time to watch his next portal fade.

Sighing heavily you open one as well and leave the clock tower behind only to change it for another location in the same world.

Again you are greeted by a closing portal, just in front of the gates of the old mansion, and you know that he's going to another world now since the energy signature of his portal has changed.

When you arrive at the bent Papou tree, you even catch a glimpse of angry blue eyes before he jumps through another portal.

This time you don't bother to open your own portal, but just rush forward to jump through his before it closes. Good thing you managed to do that too, because you aren't quite sure where he was headed next anyway.

Radiant Garden. Well, well.

You arch your eyebrows slightly as you look around, but at the same time you reach out to hold him back when he tries to escape again. You grab hold of his shirt, jerking him back roughly, and with a strangled cry he trips and falls back, right into your arms. Not intending to give him a chance to run off again you throw him to the ground and twist his right arm onto his back until he hisses in pain, straddling the small of his back to immobilize him effectively. He twists and turns and swears and tries to wiggle out of your painful grip until you twist his arm into an agonizing angle. With a small groan he goes limp, signaling you that he gives up. Very uncharacteristic. You expected more of a fight than that. The last time he tried to be stubborn you had to break his arm to keep him from attacking you.

"Down, boy," you order flatly, smirking when he tries to turn his head to glare at you, but to your surprise he still doesn't try to free himself.

You look up again, inspecting the town where your Other lost his heart. Nothing has really changed since then, you decide. The people may have started to rebuild the city, but it's still rotten, corrupt, foul and worthless.

"I'm sorry," you finally say.

"You don't even know what for," he growls irritated.

"No," you admit, cautiously releasing his arm but staying on alert in case he comes to his senses and decides to fight back. "And you know I don't even mean it. I can't really be sorry, you know."

"I know," he mutters, folding his arms and hiding his face in them.

"But friends do say they are sorry if they did something wrong, right? So, I'm sorry. For doing something that upset you. Though I don't really get what the hell I did wrong," you continue, and now that you're sure that he won't try to behead you as soon as you release him you get off him and sit beside him on the ground. He doesn't move and doesn't answer, and after a while you try to get up and leave, quite sure that he's still mad at you and won't talk to you anymore.

He quickly grabs your sleeve and pulls you back so you almost fall onto your back, and quite surprised you stare down at him. He still doesn't look up, and he mumbles something into his arm that you don't quite understand.

"What the hell, Roxas?" you laugh, trying to pull your arm away. He doesn't let go.

"I'm sorry," he repeats louder, his voice still muffled, but understandable. "I… I don't know why I acted like that. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you… I don't know why…"

"Because you're a prissy little bitch, my dear," you explain helpfully, ruffling his hair. He snorts amused, but finally he turns his head to look at you. With a sigh he props his chin in his hands and watches you thoughtfully.

"I really don't know why I was so upset," he admits and laughs loudly. You frown at its artificiality; usually you don't mind him faking emotions, simply because it's part of your nature, but this… it was like he didn't even try to make it sound convincing. "I shouldn't have minded that you tried to burn down the café."

"I should probably not have tried to burn it down," you reply, and right after the words have left your mouth your eyes widen in surprise, and Roxas' mouth falls open.

"That… sounded wrong," he finally says, and you only nod, feeling somehow dazed. It really did. Like… Just… Wrong.

You both fall silent for a while, Roxas propping his chin in both hands and gazing at the city, you facing the opposite direction, watching tiny figures bustling around the destroyed castle – for a while. You hope he doesn't notice you watching him from the corners of your eyes when you can't keep your eyes off him any longer.

He's so strange today. So _different_.

"Why did we even fight, Axel?" he asks after a while, and you're a bit surprised when you hear your own voice answer immediately.

"You said something stupid, and I blew up. You know, the usual." You shrug and raise one hand, conjuring a small fireball to hover over your palm. You watch the tiny flame flicker and twitch, letting it wander over your gloved fingers. That's a nervous habit you acquired years ago; back when you had just been turned into a Nobody, right after waking up in some dark alley, where you had been left to bleed to death, your only company the memories of searing pain and hot blood coating your hands, your face, tasting metallic and sickening inside your mouth; memories of deceitfully silent shadows killing the screaming people all around you. While you had been waiting in that alley, completely at a loss what to do, you had first noticed the warmth running through your veins, turning into torrid heat that threatened to devour you, manifesting in fire bursting from your skin, your eyes, your screaming mouth, scorching your flesh; and then it had stopped. That was when you heard Superior's voice calling your new name for the first time; telling you to control the abilities that were given to you. It took you such a long time to control your element to create more than those small fireballs…

… woah, digressing much? You're supposed to calm Roxas down, aren't you? You being his mentor… his friend and all…

You know he's watching you now, with this damned, innocent, curious look of his, and with a sigh you close your fingers around the flickering flame and squelch it.

"It's not important," you mutter and look down at your hands. "Forget about it."

"But what did I _say_?"

"Nothing…"

"No, I want to know! Did I insult you? I…"

"No, you…"

"You know I don't know how…"

Yes, you know he's not experienced in matters of human interaction. Yes, you know that he lost all of Sora's memories and is unsure about everything he does. Yes, you know he just tries to learn, that he doesn't want a faux pas like this to ever happen again.

But, your lack of heart be damned, right now guilt is suffocating you, because _you are making everything so difficult for him_.

"Roxas?"

"Yes?"

And now he's looking at you again, so eager to learn about his wrongdoings, so eager to learn, so hungry for knowledge, and he thinks _you_ are the right one to teach him. You are his mentor, his teacher, his friend. He thinks you know _everything_.

Oh, how wrong he is.

"Shut the fuck up," you growl, looking away when his face falls. Dammit. Why do you even _try_ to resist him?

You sigh, then let your shoulders droop, running a hand through your spiky hair. You purse your lips, then open your mouth… but it's all too ridiculous, your behavior before was ridiculous, your nervousness now is even more so.

"You called me…" you mutter and then you draw your knees up and rest your arms on them, and you hide your face in your arms, just peering at him over your folded limbs. "… beautiful," you add even quieter. It sounds even more stupid now that you said it, and suddenly you feel very vulnerable. It's the strangest feeling ever. You, one of the most powerful Nobodies in the Organization, the Nobody commanding the Assassins, the Nobody commanding fire, feel vulnerable in the face of a Nobody who is so much younger than you, who still doesn't dare to use his abilities in a fight, who doesn't dare to give the Nobodies assigned to him orders yet, a Nobody who looks like a little _boy_.

"What?" Of course he didn't understand your mumbling, and now he sits up and stares at you. Great. Now he's _curious_.

"_Women_ are beautiful," you suddenly snap at him, and you hate the slowly spreading smirk on his lips… Yeah, maybe not hate. You still dislike it, almost as much as the flaming heat rising into your cheeks.

Well, you would. If you were able to. You know. _Feel_.

"I see…" he drawls and smirks a bit wider. "That was it? What, did you think I overlooked the tiny detail you were _male_?"

"Noooo, I…" you groan and immediately stop yourself. It sounds even dumber when he puts it this way.

"Geez, Axel, I think I would've noticed boobs on you all the times I had to tend your wounds after battle…"

"Oh, shut the f-…"

"Awww, Axie, are you being _bashful_?"

"Just faking," you mumble into your arms, and only when the words slip past your lips you notice you just repeated an answer he gave you to the very same question not too long ago. "Oh, _fuck you_!"

"Such crude language," Roxas laughs and you want to tell him off so badly, and yet you can't, because his carefree, honest laughter is too precious to be disturbed.

So you let him laugh at you, because even though it unnerves you, it also feels so right for him to laugh; you just sit there and yell curses at him in your mind, careful not to let them spill from your treacherous mouth.

He calms down soon enough, the amused grin softens to a smile, and you know he feels a bit bad for laughing at you too; you can see it in his eyes, and in the way he fidgets with his hands.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice sounds a bit choked. You mumble something vaguely affirmative into your folded arms, staring at the destroyed castle again.

"If it were anybody else, they'd be so, _so_ dead by now," you grumble and stiffly rise from the floor.

"I know," he agrees and follows you. He's still smiling at you, and you don't know whether to smack him or to steal some ice cream for him.

And while he's smiling at you, you can't help but think that, even though he is a boy, the word that would describe him best is _beautiful_.

It's his power over light, you're fairly sure of it, but he seems too pure to be handsome, too soft to be attractive, too grown-up to be cute and too tough to be pretty. No, the only way to describe him would be beautiful, with his golden hair and deep blue eyes, and gentle smile and, most of all, his overwhelming presence… And you wish you could always stay with him, bask in his light and savor his pureness, you wish you could stay with him, because he makes you forget that you're incomplete… He makes you feel whole, he makes you feel right, he makes you want to take him into your arms and hold him and protect him from the direful truth that is your existence…

And then you stop thinking, and you notice how fast your breathing has become and how strange and light and dizzy you feel, and how damn hot, too hot even for you and your damn fire abilities… It feels like back then, in that nameless dark alley, it feels like losing control, feels like the fire running through your veins is about to break through your skin…

Disturbed by your own thoughts you turn away from him, open a portal and hurry through it; you're not running away, you keep telling yourself, even when you find yourself running through the dark alleys in the World That Never Was, even when you can no longer control the fire burning under your skin and the cracked asphalt melts beneath your feet. Your coat catches fire, your hands release fireball after fireball against a few scattered heartless crawling out of the dark. You keep running, fighting to regain control; the fire dies down, but you're startling lesser Nobodies in their thoughtless wandering. You can feel a pack of Assassins reaching out to you, trying to read your thoughts, trying to fulfill every one of your wishes, trying to ease your distress, but you block them instinctively. They flinch back, their shrill protests reverberating in your mind, and you rush past them, still hiding your thoughts most carefully.

Right now, they would probably attack you.

Because you feel so confused, because you feel so angry, because you feel so _terrified_, because you _feel_.

You stop when you can sense no more Nobodies near you; you lean against a wall, slightly bent forward, eyes wide, panting for air like you just ran for hours, staring at your pale, unscathed skin beneath the charred leather of your glove; and you try to understand what just happened, but you can't… You grab your scorched coat right above your chest, where a heart should beat, and there is nothing; of course there isn't, but there _should_ be, and you are so sure that there _was_ something before! When Roxas looked at you and smiled… almost like…

You gasp loudly and lay back your head, eyes searching for the familiar sight of the imperfect, unfinished heart glowing in the sky. Kingdom Hearts always was so soothing, because it promised you a chance to become complete one day, but now you can't help but think that it is terrible, so ghastly in its incompletion. It's mocking your desperate pursuit for normalcy.

_Until you are able to feel, the warmth you believe to feel every time he is close to you cannot be real.

* * *

_

**Author's Notes: ***stressed* Here you are, hope you like, thanks for reading kaythanksbye. **  
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